


Bathe me in your colors

by DropsOfAutumn



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (with huge focus on the comfort), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathing, Casual Intimacy, Flirting, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Sheith, Nightmares, Post-Canon (S8 we don't know her), Rated M for naked butts, Shiro being very handsy and smitten, Tiny bit of Angst, lots of love, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23891464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropsOfAutumn/pseuds/DropsOfAutumn
Summary: “Shiro.” The stress in Keith’s words leaves no room for negotiation. His hand finds Shiro’s jaw again, a tender gesture that has Shiro press his lips against his palm.“Let me take care of you.”Keith’s finger trails over his cheekbone, his eyes following his movements. The determined wrinkle between his brows vanishes just as fast as it has come when Keith catches Shiro’s smile as his thumb reaches the corner of Shiro’s lips.And Shiro can’t help but whisper his husband’s name before he lets his clothes fall to the floor.**Or: The one in which Keith washes Shiro's hair
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 59
Kudos: 139





	Bathe me in your colors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [loujanextordjman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loujanextordjman/gifts).



> Written for [loujane](https://twitter.com/LoujaneSK), who won my 300 Follower Giveaway on Twitter and asked for hair washing <3
> 
> It's the first time I'm actually giving Hurt/Comfort a try and it was quite a challenge, but writing smitten and handsy Shiro was so much fun! Hope you like it.
> 
> As always, biggest Thank You to [Christie](https://twitter.com/appetixing) for reading over this and being very supportive by screaming at me 💖.

It’s the noise that hits him first, the repetitive cheering of a title he thought he had long cast aside.

It’s the smell of blood that hits him second, metallic, stale.

The third thing he notices is the lights flashing purple before his eyes.   


And Shiro knows he’s back in the arena.   
  
The white noise is rushing in his ears. The purple blade is speeding towards him. The smell of blood and sweat is making his gut twist. The crowd is cheering, “Champion, Champion,” the ugly cries of a mob high on bloodlust.    


Shiro’s head is bursting when everything comes rushing in on him. He can feel his heart pulsing in his chest. Too fast.  
  
It’s all at once.

It’s all too much. 

He can’t be back. Can’t do this anymore. 

He’s not made to kill. He’s not their  _ champion _ .    
  
Not their champion.   


He’s Shiro, he’s Shiro, he’s...   
  
“Shiro.”   
  


The voice is familiar, warm. A lifeline, a golden light in the darkness, dragging him from the pit.   
  
Shiro opens his eyes and he’s engulfed by blackness.   
  
Gone is the smell, gone are the lights, the chants in the air.

They are replaced by soft fingers against his arm and a familiar warmth pressed against his body.

He has to blink twice until his eyes get used to the darkness. Where the moonlight hits their covers, he can see the faint outline of the bed. And as he follows the light, he can see it reflect in Keith’s eyes, staring at him from where he’s sitting next to him, gaze wide and alarmed. 

Even in this state of alert, Shiro can see the faint glow of sleep-drunk Keith through heavy lashes and it would have been adorable – if it wasn’t for his hammering head. 

The white noise in his ears has made way for the loud pulse rushing. He tries to breathe, long breaths and deep inhales.   
  
It’s hard when his heart is racing fast, trying to run out of his chest. 

“The arena again?” Keith’s hand, the one that’s not pressed against his biceps, finds his jaw. It feels warm, grounding where Keith’s soft fingers cup his cheeks as he nods against it. 

So Shiro dares the first deep breath. It fills his lungs with fire.   
  
Twenty-two, twenty-three…    
  
With every exhale, the fire diminishes, the pain leaves his lungs, his muscles, his jaw he had not noticed he had clenched.    


It’s when the pulse is no longer rushing in his ears that Shiro dares to speak.    


“Yeah.” It’s still breathless, husky, the way the word leaves Shiro’s mouth. He can feel the sweat running down his face, can feel the way Keith’s thumb flicks it away.    
  
Words don’t come to him. 

They are not needed, not when Keith shifts slightly, the arm which was pressed against Shiro’s biceps now encircling his shoulders. Keith’s hand splayed over the place between the two shoulder blades where it starts to move up and down. Slowly. Calming.

Just the right speed to match Shiro’s breaths.   


“It’s alright,” he whispers against Shiro’s temple, his warm lips lingering long enough to leave a ghosted kiss.

It’s so easy to gravitate towards Keith, to let his shoulders slump and press his head against Keith’s chest. So easy when Keith’s fingers travel from Shiro’s jaw, ghosting over his ear before they reach the back of his neck, slow and soothing circles ghosting over the short hairs there, helping Shiro to focus on his breath.

Until the only sound in Shiro’s ears is Keith’s heartbeat. A rhythm Shiro has come to love too much. 

With a soft tug, Keith lets himself fall back into their pillows, carefully taking Shiro with him. 

And Shiro goes willingly.   
  
It’s perfect, the way they lie in silence. 

Keith on his back, one hand buried in Shiro’s hair playing with his floof, while the other is leaving gentle strokes against his back; Shiro’s ear pressed to the place just above Keith’s heart, the heartbeat the most beautiful lullaby.   
  
The nightmares are nothing new, they have even become a regular guest between his sheets. Back on the castleship, in the dark of his empty chamber, the dreams had been cruel, persistent, leaving Shiro sleeplessly searching for the observation deck. 

Staring at the stars had always been his escapism. 

Years later, Shiro had hoped falling asleep with Keith’s head on his chest, whispering his love into Keith’s hair, would keep the nightmares away. Keith would hum as much into the space between them, his words big with promises of saving him.

And still, these demons were not Keith’s to fight. And once a month, Shiro was sure to wake up covered in sweat. 

Keith, brave and selfless, had once promised to save him, over and over again. Save him he would, with soft touches and warm kisses – reaching out with his words and drawing Shiro from the nightmare.

And here, encircled in Keith’s arms, feeling his breath in the curve of his neck, while his husband’s hand plays with the short hairs of his undercut… Simply being with Keith is enough to calm him, to let him breathe.

In and out. 

Each exhale chasing out the demons, the sounds, the smell.

Each inhale filling his lungs with the smell of home, of love. 

Of Keith. 

And still…  


He knows his brain too well.

And as much as he wants Keith’s love to fill his every cell, Shiro knows his thoughts will keep circling back to the flashing lights, to the noise. It makes Shiro’s breath hitch and he stops to count, shivering under Keith’s touch. 

It’s Keith’s thumb against the corner of his lips that makes him turn to his husband. The moonlight hits Keith’s hair just right, bathing him in soft hues, the velvet strands haloing his face in the most beautiful way. 

“Can’t sleep?”   
  
Shiro shakes his head. He knows these nights too well, knows how his brain will run in circles until dawn until he will drag himself out of bed and go for a jog instead.    
  
“Come here.”   


Keith’s hands circle around Shiro’s. And with a soft tug, Keith pulls him up and out of bed. 

And Shiro follows willingly.    
  
*   
  
The yellow bathroom lights make both of them squint their eyes at first and it takes seconds to get used to. 

It’s just the time Keith needs to pull Shiro towards the bathtub, making him sit on the edge while the water starts to fill the tub. His hand in the water makes sure it’s the right temperature before he turns to Shiro. 

Shiro’s legs fall open for Keith to step into the space between where his hands find the hem of Shiro’s sleeping shirt. 

“We need to get this off of you,” Keith says, gently tugging at the fabric. 

Shiro looks up, his eyes locking with Keith’s. “Keith, I — ” he starts, but he knows it’s no use. Keith is stubborn, he has learned as much. Often enough.   
  
“What?” Keith’s voice is stern, determined, from where he stares down at Shiro. He does not let go of the shirt between his fingers.

“You really don’t need to.” 

Shiro’s hand finds Keith’s hips, using the moment to pull him closer. It leaves him with the perfect angle to sneak his thumbs underneath Keith’s shirt.    
  
“Shiro. We both know you won’t be able to go back to sleep.” Keith sighs. His hands wander, cupping Shiro’s shoulders instead. 

“But what about you? Don’t want to keep you awake,” Shiro insists, his thumbs pressing into the skin above sharp hip bones. He turns his head just enough to leave a kiss on his husband’s wrist, his eyes never leaving Keith’s. 

He can’t spend all his sleepless nights keeping Keith awake. It’s not his fault the nightmares are a regular guest in Shiro’s dreams.   
  
“Shiro.” The stress in Keith’s words leaves no room for negotiation. His hand finds Shiro’s jaw again, a tender gesture that has Shiro press his lips against his palm. 

“Let me take care of you.” 

Keith’s finger trails over his cheekbone, his eyes following his movements. The determined wrinkle between his brows vanishes just as fast as it has come when Keith catches Shiro’s smile as his thumb reaches the corner of Shiro’s lips.

And Shiro can’t help but whisper his husband’s name before he lets his clothes fall to the floor. 

*   
  
The water is warm where it plays around his calves, the foam clinging to his legs. The smell of lavender fills his nose as he sinks into the tub and it’s so much better than the stench of blood and sweat.    
  
Shiro lets his head rest against the cold tiles as the warmth encompasses him. Even in their own quarters, the bathtub is not big enough for him to stretch out, so he draws his knees to his chest and lets his hands float. 

Keith settles next to the tub and rests his arms on the edge, his chin tucked up on one palm that’s hiding his soft smile. The lights in the bathroom cannot hide how beautiful Keith is. With his sleep-tousled and his free hand drawing circles of foam and soap on the water surface, he looks like someone straight from a Renaissance picture. 

And Shiro gasps as soon as delicate fingers stop swirling foam and find his chest instead, dancing over his skin where it’s not covered by water. Shiro is sure Keith can feel his pulse beating faster as the fingers ghost over his heart.

Words are not necessary, not when Shiro loses himself in Keith’s eyes. 

Shiro knows he could spend hours staring at this gorgeous man who crossed the universe to save him, over and over. And here he is, being saved again, by lavender soap and yellow bathroom lights.    
  
Black strands of hair fall into Keith’s face and the urge to tuck them back behind his ear is compelling. It would be easy to lift his hand and leave a trail of waterdrops on Keith’s skin on his way. Waterdrops he would love to kiss from his husband’s soft skin. 

Before Shiro can act on it, Keith sits up, angling for the shampoo. The corner of the bathtub is narrow, hardly leaving enough space for him to sit. And a comment about Keith’s pretty little butt comes to Shiro’s mind but dies on his lips when he feels the warm water running down his scalp.

It’s soothing, even has spiritual character the way Keith works precise and steady, one of his hands scooping up water while the other makes sure nothing gets into Shiro’s eyes. It leaves Keith’s thumb grazing over Shiro’s temple in the process and Shiro, honestly, is so far away from minding. 

He can’t help but close his eyes when the water pouring down his head stops and is replaced by Keith’s delicate fingers massaging his scalp with dedication. The hair in the back of his neck might be short, but it does not stop Keith from running his fingers through them for a few extra moments.    
  
Shiro doesn’t remember ever putting so much effort into a single hair wash. Washing his hair had always been perfunctory, quick. Not the sacred experience Keith makes it out to be. His thoughts get lost in the sensation, a moan leaving his lips when Keith’s fingers find a spot that is especially sensitive. 

The desire to peek is big, but Keith’s groans as soon as his eyes so much as blink – so Shiro can only imagine the way Keith’s brows furrow, the adorable wrinkle that forms on Keith’s forehead when he’s focusing too much.    
  
The water is warm against his skin when Keith rinses the shampoo, his fingers swirling through the floof plastered to Shiro’s forehead. And all Shiro can think about is how intimate it feels. How he can feel the pleasure tickle underneath his skins when Keith’s fingers swoop up the water. He catches himself getting way too interested in the sensual touches. 

So Shiro tries to focus, tries to fill his mind with thoughts about how good it feels to be touched by Keith. 

To be loved by Keith. 

The depth of Keith’s love and devotion will never cease to overwhelm Shiro, even when he’s sitting in the bathtub and all Keith does is wash his hair. Never has he thought getting his hair washed would leave him aroused, mind-blown and blissful at the same time. But when Keith’s fingers stop to caress through his hair and soft lips press against his forehead, Shiro’s toes curl.

Somewhere deep inside, he can still feel his mind buzz with faint purple lights, can still feel the rush of adrenaline that had him startle from his dream. He knows he will never fully lose this part of him, the memories a constant reminder of days far worse, far darker. 

And still, he finds his heartbeat calming down, feels the warmth of the water and the warmth of Keith’s love surround him. Because it’s Keith, it’s always Keith who will love and save him like this. 

He opens his eyes and is blessed by the most beautiful sight. Keith hovers above him, haloed by the faint light of their bathroom, his black hair playing around his features, long enough to tickle Shiro’s ears. He can feel Keith’s fingers around his cheeks, drawing soft circles. 

And all of it, the nightmares, the terror, the memories, all of this doesn’t matter, not when Keith’s lips are adorned with the softest smile, the one Shiro knows is reserved for the intimate hours between the two of them.

They stay like this for a heartbeat, Keith’s eyes too mesmerizing to blink.    


“Better?” Keith’s whispers before his lips find Shiro’s temple again. 

Shiro hums, as he tries to burn the view into his mind forever. Keith never fails to amaze him.

“I love you,” Shiro says eventually, feeling the corners of his lips draw up in a warm smile.

Keith’s eyes light up in the sweetest way, and for a long moment, it’s enough just to stay like this.  
  
It’s Keith who speaks first.   
  
“You’re a sap,” he whispers with a grin.   
  


And breaks the spell. 

He straightens his back and turns, reaching for a towel. 

But Shiro is faster, catching him with his arm still dripping wet and curling it around Keith’s hips. Where his hand settles against Keith’s ass, it leaves wet fingerprints on Keith’s shorts, – and makes him yelp in the process.    
  
Their half-hug gives Shiro the perfect excuse to bury his head in the soft fabric of Keith’s top which smells so distinctively like his husband that a deep breath is enough to calm his heart even more.    
  
“Stay.” Shiro whispers, when his thumb sneaks underneath the fabric, searching for the dip of Keith’s hip bones again. His nose follows shortly after, knowing exactly how pretty the skin underneath the fabric is. Shiro cannot  _ not _ kiss it, cannot  _ not _ let his nose ghost over Keith’s belly button.   
  
“Shiro...” A sound somewhere between a growl and a moan leaves Keith’s lips. In Shiro’s mind, he never sounded more appealing.    
  
“We need to get this off of you,” Shiro explains, his fingers already busy wandering underneath the waistband of Keith’s shorts. He feels Keith pawing against his arms in a playful manner.    


“Oh sir, but I’m married. What would my husband say?” Keith asks and Shiro can hear the shit-eating grin from where his head is buried underneath Keith’s shirt.   
  
“Your husband,” Shiro explains when he shuffles free again. “Would love to see your pretty ass pretty undressed and sitting next to him in this tub.” His lips curl upwards as his fingers reach Keith’s ass. His squeeze rewards him with another yelp.    
  
“Well, we can’t have him wait, can we?” With the grin still on his lips, Keith shimmies out of his shirt, his boxer shorts following suit, snuggling next to the pile of Shiro’s discarded clothes on the floor.   
  
Water splashes to the ground when Keith sits down between his legs. 

It’s a tight fit, the bathtub definitely not made for two adults, not with Shiro’s broad shoulders and thick thighs. 

When he finally finds a position that’s comfortable for him, Keith sits half on one of Shiro’s legs and his feet dangle out of the tub on the other side. 

It’s perfect.    
  
Keith’s hair clings to Shiro’s chest, the tips floating in the water between them. Keith hums something about being too big for the tub, but Shiro does not listen. 

To his defense, it’s easy to get distracted when Keith’s shoulder is just the right height for Shiro to leave kisses on. When Keith’s torso presses against his chest, there’s barely enough space for Shiro’s arms to sneak around him and drape his hands over Keith’s chest. It leaves Shiro in the perfect position to press Keith closer, water running out of the tub in the process.   
  
It also makes Keith scoot into the spot right between his legs. The way Keith’s shoulders tense tell Shiro he notices the obvious hardness pressing against his ass.    
  
“Oh.” Shiro knows Keith too well for him to fake his surprise. The foam has long gone and with it any chance to hide how much Shiro enjoyed being taken care of.    
  
“You know I love what you can do with your hands,” Shiro murmurs an explanation into Keith’s ear, making sure his words leave goosebumps where he breathes against the skin.    


His own hands wander, down Keith’s chest, over his stomach, sneaking lower and lower – before Keith stops him, slapping his fingers playfully. It sends water flying, a few drops hitting Shiro’s face in the process.   


“Hey,” Keith protests, an amused tone swinging in his words. 

“Can’t I appreciate my hot husband?” Shiro’s arms wander back to embracing Keith, his face hiding in the back of Keith’s neck.  
  
“Shiro,” Keith’s laughs and it’s music to his ears. 

The silence they share is warm, beautiful. Shiro wishes he could hold onto this moment forever.    
  
  
Finally, Keith is the one to break it. “I’m happy you’re better,” he says.    


“Thanks to you,” Shiro whispers when he rests his chin on Keith’s shoulder, his nose very eager to graze Keith’s earlobe. “I don’t deserve you.”    
  
Water swaps out of the bathtub when Keith turns in his arms, his eyes pinning Shiro into place. Shiro’s name on his lips, insisting. 

His fingers against Shiro’s jaw are wet, warm, where they press against his lips.

“You deserve so much.” Keith’s words hit him when he presses their foreheads together, sending single drops of water running down Shiro’s face.   
  
Shiro wants to say so much, does not have enough words for all the love and affection he feels for Keith, making him burst at the seams.  
  
It’s hard putting into words how much he loves and appreciates Keith’s everlasting presence, his support and selfless love for him.    
  
So Shiro kisses Keith instead.   
  
*

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> I'll try my best to reply to comments and would love to hear what you think!
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/dropsofautumn)♡


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